


may the whispers of your ghost guide my aching soles (and lead me to where they can never hurt us)

by aimlovec



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Depression, Drug Use, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multiple Timelines, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Harrington Has PTSD, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Suicide Attempt, calm down dad it’s just weed, eventually, it’s good then it’s bad, more tags to come, this is gonna be long y’all so just stick with me, warning i curse a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimlovec/pseuds/aimlovec
Summary: But as the night went on their conversations turned like they always did, to the past.Everyone still checked every news source they could get their hands on just in case something was wrong and everything was gonna happen again.But it had been five years now and everyone was okay and living their lives... well almost everyone.It had been five years, four months and sixteen days since Steve Harrington sold his car and walked out of Hawkins with nothing more than a bag over his shoulder.They were the ones who felt it the most.-Steve Harrington disappeared during Christmas of 1985, five years later without even a whisper of news from him, the party is moving on with their lives trying to let go of their guilt over the events in 1985. But when the shiver of the past is felt once more they find themselves going further than they thought they ever would in search of the truth of that fateful summer.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Nancy Wheeler/Johnathan Byers, Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 37





	1. December 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is not coping well with the fallout from the Battle of Starcourt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first full length fic, this is gonna be pretty long so just stick with me please. sorry about my grammar and summary i know its not the best but still please let me know what you think :)

The final straw broke while he was in the middle of changing the oil in his car.

Something that he had done countless times with peak indifference and slight annoyance in his 3 years of driving. But for some reason today it was just too much.

Christmas had flurried into his life once again, the ground was once again covered in a thick layer of snow but despite the cold temperatures the citizens of Hawkins held the warmth and spirit that every other city likes to act like they have. Strings of lights outlined nearly every building. The newly revived downtown was once again filled with shoppers. Everyone was all smiles and good natured hellos, no matter how much your mamma hated the woman who lived two blocks down, whenever he would drive home a cigarette practically glued between his fingers now days he'd catch glimpses of families through their open windows- holiday parties were being held, trees decorated and an easy sense of joy despite the horrors that had occurred just six months prior.

Steve hadn't actually seen his parents since this same time last year. It was of course a tense affair that thankfully only lasted three days despite his mother's brief phone call the day before they arrived saying “oh Steven your father and I will be home until new years this year”. 

_Bullishit_.

He truthfully has no clue where they are now, the only proof that their plane had not gone down over the Alps or some shit was the letters that his father's secretary would send him every month, relaying the list of home improvement style demands in the house that they hadn't even seen the last two new living room sets in. 

The last highly clerical note that he received the first day of December included the demand of him decorating the house, both inside and out- followed by the not so surprising news that they will be traveling during the entirety of the holiday season and once again failed to relay a phone number or even a location. 

At least the secretary had written a small ‘merry christmas’ with a small happy face underneath the pre-printed text of his father's business information. 

Cant even spend 85 cents to give a kid a fucking halmark card.

  
  


He couldn’t bring himself to care anymore, hasn’t even heard their voices since their congratulatory graduation call. 

Which he received a month and a half after his graduation…..

Two days after the Starcourt fire (which was never mentioned). 

A short and clearly forced note of praise from his mother was followed by two hours of his father ridiculing the fact that he had graduated by the skin of his teeth and hasn't gotten into any schools, despite the small donations that each were gifted along with his bullshit essay. “Not even goddamn tech Steven and they even take the stupid fucks who can barely read”

it was very clear that in the eyes of his parents, their son had no future.

After a few more carefully woven jabs at Steve’s intelligence and worth as a human John Harrington peppered in the information that now he’s an actual adult and doesn’t have anything worth doing they’re not going to waste money paying all the utilities and his monthly allowance for food and gas so ‘ _good fucking luck_ ‘ and then the never ending beep of the dial tone. 

The funniest part? He had gotten a letter from the secretary telling him that he now needed to be financially independent the first day after he had actually graduated. 

His legs seemed to give out on him, he slid down the gaudy red and gold striped wallpaper his mom had ordered to be installed and onto the cold tile floors, coiled phone cord held so tight that the soft plastic began to indent itself into the skin of his hand. 

  
  
  


Despite the pain of their ‘serial neglect’ as Robin had called it, he knew it was better than having their attention on him. The cold and constantly disappointed eyes were always paired with his fathers whip of a tongue and his mothers clouded eyes and a constant lack of expression across her faux-youthful face, a state only achievable through her daily self prescribed dosage of Valium and white wine.

It was cold now, winter break had begun for the kids and his oil needed to be changed, especially since all costs of repairs would now be pulled out of his pathetic savings from working at scoops and the video store. So he most definitely couldn't afford to have any problems arise with the beemer that he couldn't fix himself.

And he was standing still as a gravestone in his obnoxiously long driveway watching the darker liquid pour out of a canister that he always made sure to be topped up and kept in the garage. 

He’d be lying if he said it was only for his car but that didn’t matter right now. 

The conscious part of his mind recognized the fact that the oil wasn’t even black, it was a muddied yellow at best, the color of the quarry in the soft eastern sunlight. It had also poured easily from the canister, not slugging itself out of a broken chest. 

But the conscious part of him wasn’t in control right now. 

The part of him that couldn’t go a day without drinking too much, cause shit he needed something to knock him out at least a few nights a week was in the driver's seat. 

And goddamn the fucker drove _fast_

Even with copious amounts of whatever substance he could get his hands on- he couldn't sleep with the lights out, or even in his bed, and as of the past month and a half, go a day without it going for a joyride through his brain. 

The conscious and unhinged parts of his brain were circling each other in the ring that is his head. 

“looks too much like…” the unhinged began

“ stop Steve you can’t do this right now can’t break down”

“ who is he kidding you’ve been breaking down for half a year now.” 

He could feel the pressure of moisture swelling at the bottom of his eyes.

“Ever since your knees hit the dirty linoleum wet from black sludge and your eyes met his-” the unhinged began. 

Okay it was time to _stop_. 

He had places to be, appearances to keep up, and with that Steve did what he does best-use every ounce of mental energy he had left to slam the monstrous unhinged thoughts into the flimsy cage that kept them at bay until night fell over Hawkins (the bitch had been getting out more during the day but he wasn’t going to think about that right now). 

“ _FUCK_ ” he exclaimed, his senses coming back with full force, the sharp smell of motor oil hit his nose as the chill that only accompanied wet clothes in the middle of winter made him realize that in his haze he’d poured the bruise colored liquid onto his shoes and the cuffs of his jeans. “Jesus Christ Harrington get a grip” he spat before dumbly pulling off his now flammable shoes and pants (for once thankful for the obnoxious yet hidden garage) and cursed with every exaggerated step that he took through the fresh snow and in through the door to the mud room

  
  


The fucking place was colder than the mausoleum that they had put his beautiful blue-eyed boys even colder body into. 

There are times though where it became wildly and for once full of life, but it wasn’t the same now. Firstly cause the party whose terrible manners and messy leftovers stormed through the stale air of his large home was missing some key members. The remaining four didn’t want to play D&D without Will and El, so they would make use of his giant pool during the end of summer as he would watch from the side trying not to bite into his now eternally stunted nails.

But as soon as the temperature dropped so did the time the party spent at the house with him, even Dustin was currently down to coming over for only a few hours once a week. 

Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the curly little dork at all outside of carpool during this one, or the last.

Robin even had a secret girlfriend now, some artist that Steve didn’t even know existed during high school. Despite the fact that they still hadn’t met he liked what he heard about her, and always ignored the slight throb in his chest as he saw her beaming, the warmth of romance now constantly a present part of her energy.

It was okay though, even with the fact that it meant that she only saw him at work when during the rare occasion that Steve was working a night or weekend shift, or the now practically extinct best friend dates in his basement blaring Pink Floyd and watching Star Wars while smoking a copious amount of weed (bite me dad). 

He couldn’t get upset at her, he was truly happy she was happy. The only thing that really kinda hurt was her lack of presence that he had grown nearly dependent on in order function especially when it came to sleep. 

It started in the week after everything happened, when she showed up at his door red eyed and sniffling at 1 in the morning. This began the routine of he and her curling up in the giant pullout down in the den that had become his bedroom, where he would hold her as she cried out the fear from the nightmares she still got. 

And in return a body in bed next to him kept away the worst of his own which allowed him to slightly end his self induced insomnia.

But it had been months since their kidnapping and she had a girlfriend to do that with, so when he slept now, he slept alone. 

Despite the distance he was okay with everyone going about their own lives. They deserved to be happy and work on a life that doesn’t revolve around a bullshit town that has thrown them all through hell and back. 

Unlike him they were going places. 

He’d finally accepted that solemnly but still didn’t release the pain of them all rallying around each other and kind of leaving him to his big empty house with only his trauma as company. 

He know it wasn’t their fault he couldn’t rely on anyone because he’s not anyone’s responsibility, he especially couldn’t rely on the kids to help him with this shit. 

Hopper is dead and Joyce is in Springfield trying to start a new life, the last thing she would need is her eldest sons ex bully and her youngest’s old babysitter to call her up crying over the shadows that seemed to always growl at him in the middle of the night. 

At first he'd gone through the mental list of people who might get it but the more he thought about it the more he realized that he was watching new relationships form as his seemed to slowly be reduced to strings...

Nancy was hanging out with Robin more and they were both neck deep in senior year, dealing with the stress that came with that shit show. Also she didn't need her ex boyfriend crying to her in the middle of the night.

No offense to her but he had a feeling she'd find a way to chalk the behavior up to what happened last Halloween.

Johnathan was a thought that he extinguished as quickly as it came to him. Steve had to let any thought of companionship with him go, he’s out of here and doesn’t need his ex-bully and his girlfriend's ex-boyfriend to break down over the pure grief that he was drowning in and worst of all couldn’t even tell anyone the source of.

Wouldn’t that be _ironic_ , the amount of times Steve was a homophobic asshole to him and now he wants to call the kid cause his... his whatever they were…. died. 

He had suspected that Max knew, when he would see her she would give him concerned and knowing looks. He could tell that she smelled the cowboy killers that her brother used to smoke lingering in the beemer as he made the carpool rounds, her mouth always opening and closing on itself as if she couldn’t get the words to slip past- fearful of his reaction to whatever truths she knew. 

She came over by herself a week after the funeral that Steve couldn’t get himself to go to, truth was that day he couldn’t even get himself to move the 3 feet that he would’ve needed to fix the blinds so that the late July sun wasn’t blinding his eyelids that were already weighed down by the exhaustion that paired nicely with the fact that he hadn't slept more than six hours since the night Billy had died. 

Her backpack and bike basket was full of records, cassettes and books that she had saved from the great purge that her stepfather carried out against the son he never wanted. 

The thing that he never expected her to bring though was the golden pendant of the Virgin Mary, catholic mother and protector of the world.

Billy’s most treasured possession. 

After she had left, no more than ten words exchanged between the two of them, he put it on.

The gold seemed to burn itself into his skin, the painful reminder that this chain was never supposed to be around his neck. 

But nonetheless he would carry it _always_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! again sorry for my terrible grammar, i have a few more chapters written so they will be posted relatively soon. let me know what you guys think :)


	2. Spring 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve freaks and Billy is there. It turns out to be the beginning of something neither of them saw coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who has read so far, so sorry again about the grammar.  
>  kudos and comments are seriously appreciated so let me know what you think :)

  
  


Despite external appearances Billy Hargrove was a nerd. Not in the D&D and Star Wars way-

No. 

Billy Hargrove was a 4.0 gpa, hasn't gotten a B on his report card since the 5th grade,reads nearly every book he could get his hands on. Nerd. 

Of course no one in Hawkins High school knew it, when teachers would hand back graded essays or tests he’d shove them into the one binder he carried - cause Billy Hargrove would never be caught dead with a  _ bag- _ so quickly that one would think he’d received the lowest scores. Of course he hadn't but 99% of the time it would end up in Steve’s sweaty palms, more red pen marking up the sheet than his own writing.

He and Billy only shared history and english together, Steve always sat in the back, frankly embarrassed to be one of the only seniors in the class, he kept to himself and no matter what tried to at least turn in decent work. But sadly he was stupid and could barley sleep since the past fall so the bar he was on was already considerably lower than it usually would've been. He’d been strategically avoiding the problem for about two and a half months before the problem bit him in the ass.

It was mid way through march when coach pulled him aside after practice Steve could tell that he was trying to be slightly delicate with the situation as a high school sports coach could be.

But the message was clear, if his grades did not improve, he would have to be benched and they both knew that Steve couldn't afford to be benched during recruitment season. He was proud of himself for getting through the conversation without his mask slipping, as soon as he made it into the empty locker room it was an entirely different story.

His hands were shaking and tears that he’d fought so hard to reign back during the talk began to silently spill. His chest felt like it was being crushed, this was the first time someone outside of his father had spelled out the fact that his academic performance was less than satisfactory in order to get into school.

Even though coaches came from concern, not spite it still stabbed into him because it meant that his father wasn't just trying to be a dick….. This was a real problem and Steve had no fucking idea how to solve it.

He'd watched coach leave out the side door, and when he was quite sure that he was the only person in the building now, that fact allowed him to subconsciously drop the act even further, his breath now coming out in strained bursts, inhales and exhales seemed to mix into one, the two actions that kept him alive now choking him from the inside out. 

His legs gave out and he felt himself land on the tiled floors his vision was going foggy, lack of oxygen mixed with tears was the last way anyone would be able to see 20/20. 

‘Jesus fucking Christ I'm gonna die here’ was a thought that was able to stand out from the absolute chaos that was his mind at the moment. 

How fun, King Steve dying on the bathroom floor of the Hawkins High Gymnasium. Tommy would have a field day with this one.

His vision faded more, he closed his eyes his breaths still merging into an invisible grip around his jugular. In his haze he felt like there were hands on his body moving from his ankles tho his shoulders to two calloused palms cupping his face 

“Steve you gotta breathe come on bambi open your eyes for me”

The voice cut through the storm for a second slightly weakening its strength, there was a soft slapping on his right cheek

“Pretty boy breathe with me in and out in and out” the voice was calm which to Steve was like water in the desert. He was still hyperventilating his body shaking with panic and lack of oxygen but slowly the natural rhythm of breath was able to return to his body and the blurred form he'd seen was now coming to light

“Billy”? 

He sounded like he’d swallowed a gallon of saltwater, still not fully aware of what was going on or even where he was at this point.

“Bambi you with me now??” Billy's voice cutting through the fog, why the fuck was he here?

“Cause i left my jacket pretty boy and then i saw you having an exorcist on the floor over here” shit did i say that out loud? “ god Harrington what happened to you? You're out of it man” Billy's voice was filled with concern, why was he concerned? The other boy was fine with beating him to a pulp not even half a year ago? What the fuck? 

Steve started to try and lift himself up, his body was as heavy as lead but fuck he needed to get up “hey hey hey princess stay down you need to rest for a sec” Billy's hands were softly against the top of his chest, Steve of course didn't give a fuck cause the light was hurting his eyes and he needed to not feel like bait at the moment. “Shit okay here let me help” Billy finally realized he wouldn't be able to stop Steve from anything right now. 

His hands were warm on Steve's back and shoulder, both now covered in chilling perspiration thanks to both practice and panic. 

The other boy helped him sit up against the concrete wall, he felt every bump of the stone against his overly sensitive skin. “And to answer your question, I feel terrible about that night at the Byers place…. I never wanted… “ Steve was staring wide eyed at Billy fucking Hargrove sitting next to him on the lockeroom floor looking like he was about to cry. Also he again didn't realize he’d said that part out loud as well.

“It was wrong of me and i'm so sorry…there was some shit going down with me and I shouldn't have taken it out on you… Steve man I'm seriously so sorry i just saw red then woke up with a syringe in my neck”. Steve was still slightly panting his heartbeat slowly returning to normal as he tried to tried to take everything in… holy fucking shit.

The pair sat in silence for a long while both processing everything that had just gone down in the span of less than 10 minutes.

“Id forgiven you a while ago…. Not in the sense of I want to really talk to you… but i can tell when there's shit going down and no offense Hargrove you stink of it” Steve gave the other boy a small crooked smile, his red rimmed eyes starting to return to their normal state of focus. Billy was still for a second before mirroring Steve’s own grin. 

He doesn't know who started it but the two found themselves chuckling at the situation that they had just shared. 

If you asked him about it lasted Steve truly wouldn't be able to give a reason for why he opened up to the other boy, the boy who was a complete and utter asshole even on his best behavior. Yet in this moment he was the only person that Steve felt safe enough to open up to about this.

“So coach kinda made it clear that if my grades don't come up I'm benched and then i wont be able to be picked up by any colleges” Steve finished with a sign his head looking down at the slightly molded tiles as he waited for the worst or at least any response from Billy fucking Hargrove.

“I mean if you need any help, I could tutor you”

Steve nearly got whiplash from the speed at which his head turned towards the other boy. “What?”

“Yeah I mean I don't advertise it but I'm pretty fucking smart” Billy shot him a crooked grin, “I could totally help you out you know, consider it payback for me breaking in your pretty face a couple of months back”.

Steve was quiet for a second still kinda worried this was all just some prank… But then remembered that the kid fucking just talked him through a panic attack so it might be genuine. 

“Well i mean if you're cool with it….” Steve's head perked up, these were not the words he’d expected to come out of the other boys mouth. 

After a couple of minutes spent sitting shoulder to shoulder together Steve felt his breath had returned to enough of its natural rhythm for him to push his heavy legs off the ground taking a second to allow the shadowy ring of his vision to dissipate before he stumbled towards the door.

“Hey pretty boy wait up” Billy's soft voice contrasted the rough pads of his fingers as they wrapped around his forearm. Steve slightly flinched his skin feeling overly sensitive, a normal thing nowadays especially after his episodes. But Billy didnt let go he only slightly loosened his grip and gave Steve a look that could easily be chalked up to “you need my help dude”. 

Sighing slightly Steve let the other boy lead him out through the locker room side door, out to the parking lot that now only held a baby blue camaro and Steve's beemer. 

Like a good prom date Billy led Steve up to the door of his car, even opening the damn door for him. When Steve settled the other kid leaned over the opened door, his eyes still filled with a twinge of worry. “ You sure you're good to drive Harrington?” 

“Yeah i should be good” Steve paused, “thank you”.

No problem pretty boy ill be at your place tomorrow at 6 if that's fine, just have you book and we can figure out the rest”. Steve nodded as Billy softly closed the door, giving him one last look delivering 3 hits to the roof of the car. “ drive safe pretty boy, can't write in a coma” he smirked before turning and making his way out. 

-  
  


-

-

In English three they were reading The Tempest, he knew he would like the story as soon as he was able to read the summary. At first the thing looked like the beginning of a scrabble game. He hated it so much. 

When it came to his education he really hated all of it, he was dumb. Everyone told him that, he could feel the disbelief and humor that washed over whoever was around him when he opened his stupid mouth. It’s not like the past year helped. 

Although it wasn’t as bad even then with his mental cocktail of ptsd (another term that robin kept using), lack of concentration and his multiple concussions and the fact that he couldn’t ever get the smell of those tunnels out of his nose.

Except for when he smelled Billy’s cologne 

Billy had worn it generously, some may see this as kinda douche baggy - but Steve loved it. The sharp notes of amber and pine with something almost soft and sweet hiding underneath. 

He would come to see this as the greatest metaphor the world could ever provide in regards to Billy Hargrove. 

The kid had shown up right on the agreed time, it had been barley dusk by the time rolled up, much quieter than usual, surprisingly. But he didn’t question the fact that despite Steve being the only one home, every single light, lamp, chandelier you name it was on. 

They had started out both trying to separately read their copies and talking after each chapter but even the modern English version that mirrored Shakespeare's writing on every right page, Steve felt like his head was gonna explode. 

Without the pair even exchanging a word, Billy cleared his throat and started reading out loud.

They never talked about it afterwards but that changed everything.


End file.
